Written by Lily Spechler (University of Vermont)
Within two hours of driving from our hostel, Cabañas Nino, in Coyhaique to our base camp at Cochrane, the paved road clunked to a close, and our truck hiccupped its way onto a narrow, winding, gravel road. I asked Shay, my new instructor, how long this road went on; she smiled and said it would be around six hours. She added cheerfully that she hopes no one gets carsick easily. It was at this moment that I realized I was not in Closter, New Jersey any longer, and the adventure had officially begun.
Cochrane (photo by Adam Spencer)
It’s incredible how relative time can be. Eight hours of studying for my Political Science final last semester feels like a lifetime ago. Eight hours tumbling through this hidden wonderland was a blink. Pictures are also funny creatures. For months, I had been looking through Facebook pictures of Round River students who had come before, trying to get some data for my envisioning process. To say the least, it should be a crime to capture a place like this into a box as small as camera lens. If I were the mountains, I would slap the camera directly out of the photographer’s hands, and announce with sass, “stop insulting me; you cannot do justice to these curves.” But we newcomers could not resist; pictures served as mere proof to ourselves that we were actually here; every second felt like a dream.
Yet upon arriving at the Baker River, it was as though I’d never dreamed before. I had never seen a glacial river before, and for anyone reading this, please trust the following piece of advice: you must see a glacial river before you die. The river was electric blue against a wall of grey. The sky was cloudy white, and my prediction was that it was simply too ashamed to compete with the blueness of the river. The Baker River is strikingly powerful in every single sense.
Our professors stopped the car to let us explore. My new friends dispersed along the rocks, finding personal space to appreciate the sight. I sat cross-legged, inching as close to the water as I could possibly get. I watched the water crash upon the rocks, mesmerized by how powerful the water can be in come places, and how gentle it can seem in other places. The water’s fierce collisions created tiny explosions, sending up misty ghosts to kiss my cheeks before flowing downstream.
photo by Adam Spencer
I saw my journey so far reflected in these rapids. My familiar world collided so fiercely with this unfamiliar world, that I felt like I was exploding. I was completely overwhelmed with emotion. Admittedly, I had been feeling some anxiety before the trip started. But here, I realized that I was nothing more than a drop in the river. Sometimes I would crash. Sometimes I would erupt. But ultimately I would float on. And for the first time, I felt truly ready for anything.
